“Botendaddy, you are the most vile, perverted, disgusting, bloated, diaperous, Frankensteinian, smellifulous, moron. You have had relations both natural and unnatural with every single member of the Writer’s Workshop, committing sexual acts so vile (and creative) shudder, that decorum prevents a recitation of such here. Nonetheless I am madly, passionately, hopelessly in love with 😍 you in the most Early 19th Century Romantic Literary period kind of way. You have defiled me over the years with so much of your rancid del.ic.io.us spermatozoa it can only be measured in sticky, gooey gallons of sloppy slime. Ah the taste of it!”
It was the Professor 👩🏫!
At 75 she still runs five days a week. Her body is the best I’ve ever seen of a woman over 50… ever.
The leg actually didn’t hurt but the nerve damage was still brutal. We kept up a steady but slow pace for the first three miles. Not great times, but no fall-off.
“The problem with re-hab is that you just need to get better before you can pick up the pace or you risk re-injury.”
”You disgust me. You are repulsive, low-class, filthy, foul-smelling, hairy, sweaty, muscular, beast-like, shitty, stupid. I have always loved you and your massive, titanic, enormous, yuuuge, Easter Island 🗿 god-head, donkey-like appendage, ah the smell of it!”
We kept the same exact pace through four and five miles.
Little landslides were triggered on the cliffs sending rocks bouncing across the trail.
We got back to the trailhead… wait for it… wait for it…
”F@&$ me, goddamned you, you stupid diaperous Bowel Genie 🧞♂️.”
So dear readers, a dignified older lady, I did so f@&$ her. Right in the woods by the trail. Wait, what do you mean I’m disgusting! You wanted me to do it! You hypocrites!”
Peace be the Botendaddy